Cut to the Chase
by roleplay4life
Summary: When Cyrus reemerges stronger than ever, Giovanni is forced into an unhappy alliance with an old acquaintance. But will their partnership be torn apart before they can take down their mutual enemy, or can they look past their differences just this once?
1. Good Day, Gone Bad

_Saffron City, Kanto  
>Team Rocket HQ<br>1800 hours_

Business had been good lately.

Profits were back up, the gym was operating normally once again, the shareholders were behaving (for once!), and not a single employee had had to be fired this week. In fact, a very promising young woman had just been hired for their operations in Unova.

Which were going _very_ well, the company's Chief Executive Officer thought with a wide grin as he idly swirled a mint julep. He had his feet propped up on the desktop, leaned back in his chair, feeling like he could conquer the world today if he so desired. But he was in such a good mood today; he didn't much feel like it. Hell, maybe he'd donate to charity.

Giovanni chuckled at the thought and brought the glass to his lips, taking a contented sip. Mid-life crisis, what a _joke!_ He was well into his fifties and Team Rocket was more profitable than they'd been in years, maybe decades.

He then lifted the glass to the ceiling. "If only you could see me now, Mother," he intoned before taking another swig. He then set the glass aside on a coaster, right next to his gold-plated nameplate. Underneath the desk snoozed a Persian, his long-time companion and arguably the most pampered feline in Kanto. Not that she deserved anything less, he mused with another smile. He was, after all, one of the wealthiest individuals in the region, and damn it all if he wasn't going to enjoy it!

The chime of his office door interrupted his thoughts, but no matter, he thought. Giovanni removed his feet from the desk, straightened out his black suit jacket, and sat up slightly. "Enter," he called, and in walked his secretary, a rather pretty redhead by the name of… of…

Ah, whatever. He beamed at the young woman, and it must have caught her off-guard, because when she finally looked up, she squeaked and nearly dropped the small stack of files in her arms.

"Melissa! How kind of you to join me."

"It's Michelle. Michelle Rosenberg. Sir," she corrected in a small voice.

"Ah," he said dismissively, waving it off. "As the English say, 'What's in a name?'" Though he had a feeling she'd corrected him more than once.

Giovanni sat back and gestured for her to come forward. "Please, take a seat." The young woman carefully set the papers down on the edge of his mahogany desk and sat in a chair across from him. "I was just having a drink. Can I get you anything? A martini? You look like you could use one."

She looked up, startled. "N… No thank you, sir. I don't really drink." Michelle attempted a smile of her own. "I assume business is going well today, sir?"

"Good all month, my dear secretary. You're sure you don't want anything?"

"Quite, sir. But thank you."

He sighed and polished off the last of his own drink. "Very well. What news do you have for me?"

"Well, sir…" She cleared her throat and flipped open the first file folder. "A very interesting message came for you this afternoon. At first I thought it was just another rumour, but I did a little checking, and…" Michelle's voice trailed off and she grimaced, not meeting his gaze.

Giovanni felt the entire month of pleasantries and profit melt away with that look. That terrible, terrible look every person under him gave him when they were going to tell him bad news. It was always the same. That guilt-filled, slightly shameful, more than a little fearful, look. But he cleared his throat, trying and failing to keep his expression cordial. "Go on, Miss Rosenberg," he prompted.

"Sir, it was a communiqué from our base in Sinnoh. It was about… Cyrus."

He frowned at the mention of the infamous Team Galactic leader. Rumour had it he'd died two or three years ago. Galactic had collapsed without its leader, so Giovanni had decided to start setting up a base in the region. It wasn't anything fancy, an arms dealer here, a rigged casino there, overpriced and forged valuables… No real threat.

But he had a horrid feeling this was going to all change with what she told him.

"And… what _of_ Cyrus?"

"Eyewitness accounts state that he has been spotted numerous times in Sinnoh over the past month. Several anonymous sources claiming to have known him before his disappearance have confirmed it is, indeed, him. Also, many individuals suspected of having once been part of Galactic have all at once either quit their jobs or taken off more than a month." She paused, not even daring to peek at his shocked gaze. "Sir, he's _alive_."

"I gathered that."

"Sir, I-"

"Give me a moment." Giovanni started searching for something, and eventually retrieved a bottle of vodka from a desk drawer. The Rocket leader poured it into what his mint julep had been in and took a large swig, savouring it as it burned down his throat.

Much better.

At last he set down the glass so roughly it rattled a few items on the table and the woman jumped. But at his gesture, she went on, her high voice trembling slightly.

"Giovanni, sir, there's… one more thing you should know."

"Then cut to the chase and tell me, Miss Rosenberg," he practically growled at her.

She gave a nervous nod. "It seems, sir, that there have also been a number of Psychic attacks on major cities in the region. I did a little digging of my own and found a few... very interesting photographs taken by bystanders. The Sinnoh government at first hid them away, but you know I have my ways."

"Am I to assume you have printed off copies?"

She pursed her lips and gave another tight little nod. Michelle flipped to another file and took out a sheet of photo paper. "The image was low-quality, but I was able to enhance it."

Almost hesitantly, Giovanni took the photograph from her. It was larger than the usual print size, maybe twenty by twenty-five centimeters. He narrowed his eyes to focus in on the slightly-blurred photo, only to widen them a moment later.

Standing in front of a burning tower, one that looked suspiciously like the legendary Spear Pillar, was none other than Cyrus himself, aged a few years but otherwise no different. He still wore that ridiculous silver vest with the horrible black pants underneath. He still had that tacky blue hair that made him look like a teenager with a man's face. He still had that permanent scowl on his face.

But what Giovanni didn't expect were the three Pokémon flanking him:

Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf.


	2. Disaster is Inevitable

Giovanni slammed the photograph on his desk, nearly upsetting the vodka still sitting neatly in its glass. Beneath the desk, his Persian looked up sharply, startled, and mewled loudly at him. "You are _certain_ this picture is real? Anything can be doctored these days," he tried to rationalize. He grabbed the glass, took another long draw, and emptied it. He nearly slammed it onto his desk again, but caught himself and set it down with a scowl.

His secretary, now fidgeting more nervously than usual, swallowed hard and nodded. "I am absolutely certain, sir. And this isn't the only one. A few other, similar photographs have been leaked into the public netspace."

"And they show all three Lake Guardians?"

"Yes, sir, each and every one, all no more than twenty meters from Cyrus."

"Have any _other_ legendaries been seen with that pretentious, blue-haired bas-"

"No, sir," Michelle quickly interrupted.

The Rocket boss snorted and sat back in his chair. "Well, that's one good piece of news…" It was sincere, but his voice was still edged with sarcasm.

He glared at the photo. It stained his desk with its ugliness. As far as he was concerned, he didn't want to see that man's face, blurry and distorted or not, in Headquarters or in Saffron or in the _region_.

His initial reaction had been one of both amazement and something like jealousy. No, Giovanni didn't go chasing after legendaries or dabble in dangerous genetic engineering – not anymore, anyways. He'd tried it and the experiments had ended up costing him a thousand times more than he had made. After a few years he'd given that up. Humans, after all, were more easily tamed.

But to know that there was a man out there who'd done it, who'd captured not one but _three_ legendaries… It was impressive. Stupid, but impressive. But legendaries were bad – bad for business and too difficult to control. The costs outweighed the benefits every time.

At least, for him.

Cyrus, though… That young man was a completely different story, from what he had heard. He hated money, he hated people, he hated everything, it seemed. Giovanni had once tried to negotiate terms of property in Sinnoh with the Galactic leader, only to be scoffed at and thrown out. It had been humiliating, to say the least!

More than anything, however, the man was dangerous. Giovanni knew himself to be greedy – that was all right. Greed kept him successful. All his power came through money and general intimidation. Cyrus, on the other hand, wanted absolute power. The man was a lunatic. He involved himself in matters best left alone. Giovanni had, too, but luckily he'd learned better before it was too late.

He sighed, pulling out of his thoughts and turning back to his secretary. "What has the Sinnoh government done about him?"

"Not much, sir," she replied with a raise of her eyebrows. She flipped to another file and pulled it out. After a minute of scanning, she paraphrased, "More or less, they've hidden the fact that the Galactic leader has returned and they are, and I quote, 'Hesitant to take action'."

"Hesitant, my…" He cut himself off with a growl and stood from his chair. Persian stood from her spot on the floor, stretching and looking up at him. "Call the Councillor in Sinnoh. Tell her I want to speak immediately. Send it to my conference room."

"Y-yes sir, immediately, sir."

Giovanni stalked out the door, the secretary and his feline at his heels, and he immediately went down the hall, Persian off somewhere else, and Michelle back towards her desk. He couldn't help but dryly chuckle as he heard her heels click down the hall. Even for an American, she was _damn_ good at her job.

Just down the hall was his personal conference room. He leaned into the retina scanner and after a flash, it confirmed his identity and the door slipped open. "Lights," he called, and the dark room filled with light. It was a fairly large room, with a table for eight and a teleprompter off to the side. Giovanni entered a sub-room, where only a desk, chair, computer, and teleprompter were. It was slightly dimmer, even with the lights, and thus more suited to his tastes.

He sat at the desk, and as if on cue, the intercom button flashed. He hit it. "Miss Rosenberg?"

_"Yes, sir,"_ came her voice. _"Councillor Tanaka is ready to speak with you."_

"Very well. Put her through the fourth channel."

_"Doing so now, sir."_

Her voice cut out, and the teleprompter in front of him flickered to life. An exhausted-looking woman around his age looked back at him through the screen. She wore a black suit, same as most government officials. She also wore a scowl… again, like most government officials, he mused in a moment of epiphany.

"This had better be _damn_ important, Mister Giovanni. Frankly, I'm sick of seeing your face every other week."

"That's not what you said ten years ago when we 'ran into each other' at that hotel in Slateport." He smirked as her face coloured in an amusing mix of rage and embarrassment. "And unless you'd like your husband to hear about your business trip that year…"

The regional senator looked ready to reach through the screen and strangle him. "You have fifteen minutes and not a second longer."

"I won't need that long, Councillor. I simply called out of…" The Rocket leader leaned back and spread his hands. "…concern."

"Well, that's very thoughtful of you, but-"

"I understand you have a dead man wandering your region."

She immediately fell silent. Tanaka folded her hands in front of her and shifted her weight in her chair. "Have you."

"Hm. Cyrus, yes? Caused some problems for Sinnoh a few years back, didn't he?"

"How do you know about this?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"I have a very resourceful secretary."

"What do you _want?_"

"What I _want_ is to know how the leader of Team Galactic escaped from whatever hell he was in and now has his hands on not one but _three_ legendaries!" he demanded, leaning forward again and placing his hands palm-down on the desk, voice rising to a yell. "I have businesses, men, women, resources, in _your_ region, and I don't much care to hear that a _lunatic_ is waltzing around putting my people in danger!"

"You think this is an _easy_ problem, Giovanni?" the Councillor shouted back. "We are trying to prevent mass panic!" Tanaka sighed and massaged her temples, glowering at him. Lowering her voice, she finally said, "We are doing everything within reason to stop Cyrus and his followers."

"And how is that working out?"

She said nothing.

"That's what I figured," Giovanni muttered.

"Giovanni, you realized you are now under orders to keep this matter confidential, yes? Who else knows of this?"

"Me, my secretary, my top four admins, and likely my people in Sinnoh."

"And it's going to stay that way, isn't it?"

He couldn't help but grin at her statement, which was certainly nothing less than an order. "Or what, Councillor? You're going to have me arrested? I am not bound by Sinnoh's laws on media and publication."

"I have an entire file cabinet of charges sitting in this room. If I so much as see the names Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf in the newspaper or hear them on the evening news, you'll be locked up for five lifetimes." Her gaze hardened. "And don't even _consider_ sending your personal little mafia army over here."

He frowned. "I really must protest. I am a businessman, not a general, and-"

"Save it, Giovanni. You and I both know Team Rocket doesn't just _deal_ arms."

He paused. An idea came to him. So maybe _mechanical arms_ couldn't be used, but… It wasn't the most pleasant idea, and yet… "I know someone. A very powerful individual, in fact. He may be able to assist us in this matter."

"Well, who is he?"

"He prefers to maintain his anonymity."

"He's not the dictator of North Korea, is he? Because, I swear to Arceus if you involve him _again_ I'm going to-"

"No, no, far from it, Councillor."

She huffed, eyeing him skeptically. From the edge of the screen he saw her pull out a notepad and pen. "Can I at least get a surname?"

"Mm… Perhaps… not."

"A birthplace?"

"That's a complicated matter."

"Parents?"

"That's complicated as well."

Tanaka sighed loudly. "Are any of your so-called contacts _not_ shady characters?"

"Do you want me to ask him or not?"

"Yes, fine, but soon. And Giovanni?" The senator waited until she was sure she had his full attention. "He's not going to create _more_ problems, will he?"

"I certainly hope not."

"I will hold you personally responsible for this friend of yours."

He chuckled rather mirthlessly. "Trust me, Councillor, we are not 'friends' by any stretch of the definition. But I may be able to convince him to assist us nonetheless."

"See that you do. Keep me informed. But next time, just send me an e-mail. Tanaka, out."

The screen went dark, and for several seconds he simply stared at it. Giovanni at last stood and left the conference room, going immediately back to his office. A few employees nodded cordially to him in the hallway, but each of them immediately glanced away and hurried along when he failed to address them in return. Most of his workers, especially the ones who'd managed to stick around more than a few months, were smart enough to know when the boss wasn't in the mood for chatting. Newer recruits either learned quickly or _left_ quickly.

Once in his office, he pulled the shades over the windows and crossed to the back of the room. He swung aside an innocent-looking photo frame and revealed a panel. The man tapped in a twenty-digit key code, and after both a retinal and thumbprint scan, the panel slid up and a computer out. Following a long series of log-ins and bypassing various tests, he entered into his personal network. Giovanni eventually made it to the file folder he was looking for, and started typing an encrypted message into the file:

_My dearest friend,  
>I know you will see this because I know you have an interest in this folder. Where you get your hands on a computer every Tuesday evening is beyond me, but I suppose that's not my problem.<br>I have very important business to discuss with you. I will be in Cerulean Thursday evening. Meet me in the alley between 10th and 11th Streets, just off of Main Street at one in the morning. Meet me there. Bring no one.  
>…Though I suspect that will not be a problem for you.<br>And, though you are not keen to, trust me when I say this would be to your benefit. The crisis I come to you about is in Sinnoh, but before long it will reach Kanto as well. _

He saved the file, making sure it was encrypted just enough so that no nosy computer techs would be able to read it, save for the one he had just addressed. A push of a button, and the computer shut down, slid back into the wall, and the picture frame was swung back over the panel.

On his way out, he accidentally bumped into his secretary. "Miss Rosenberg, I'm going to spend a few hours in the firing range downstairs."

"Y-yes, sir. If anyone calls, what shall I tell them?"

"Tell them I went to go shoot something."

With that bewildering statement, he left her standing there, files in her arms, staring after him.

Just business as usual, he mused as he walked away.


	3. An Unhappy Alliance

_Three days later  
>Kanto Magnet Regional Transport Line<br>Half-past 2300 hours_

It really was a shame the subways couldn't run above-ground.

Giovanni stared out the window of the train, not that there was much to see. The underground lights whipped past, seeming to blur together in one long line of light. The car was relatively empty, save for a few other passengers. In the seat next to him, his Persian was curled up into a ball, snoozing. In his lap sat a black leather briefcase, and on top of that, a newspaper. He'd read three articles and found himself bored. He usually knew news _when_ it happened, not the day after. The Rocket boss smirked at the thought. He probably had more workers infiltrating various businesses and the like than most Japanese news stations had reporters. Besides, much of the news was tabloids.

He had, of course, kept his promise to Councillor Tanaka. Giovanni hadn't breathed a word the situation in Sinnoh to anyone else. The other Rockets, however, were becoming rather suspicious. No one had heard from any operations in the other regions and their CEO's good mood had all but vanished. He hadn't spoken with hardly anyone the rest of the week, not even his admins (one of which he knew to be in Sinnoh) and had spent most of the past three days in the firing range.

It was because of this he'd decided to take a simpler, more solitary way to the northern city of Cerulean. The train could get him there in roughly three to four hours, depending on how many stops it had to make along the way. Besides, this gave him an opportunity to keep a low profile, as opposed to flying in via helicopter or in a limousine.

He frowned and shifted in his seat. But couldn't these seats be a _little_ cushier?

His contact had, indeed, encrypted a reply message of sorts the following night agreeing to the terms, so long as Giovanni himself agreed to them. The man's first instinct had been to break the unofficial contract and go in with "guns blazing"… Not that even an AK-47 Assault Rifle would have been sufficient.

Maybe an army of Dark and Bug-types, though. He chuckled breathily to himself. Funny thing, type strengths and weaknesses.

But no, he hadn't even brought his Honchcrow along. For once, he legitimately needed help, and he couldn't let old habits get in the way of his goal, and that was to win back the trust of an individual who really had no _reason_ to trust him. Perhaps the briefcase and harmless feline would be a show of good faith. Giovanni certainly hoped so.

…Well, there was the taser in the outside pocket of the briefcase, but that was for any boneheaded muggers he ran across…

"Evening, sir."

He looked away from the window to see an average-looking girl, maybe in her twenties, standing in the aisle with a cart. On it were several kinds of soda pop, bottled water, coffee, and perhaps tea. The bottles hardly moved on the surprisingly smooth magnet tracks. But he wasn't particularly thirsty at the moment. He let his dark gaze pass over her.

"A good evening to you as well. You're working rather late tonight."

The girl shrugged. "University's on holiday this week. Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

"A stiff drink would be good right now," he only half-joked, smiling to let her know he wasn't quite serious.

"Aha, well, you know Kanto's public drinking laws…"

"Water would be fine." As she went to grab a plastic bottle, he went on, "You're not from around here, are you?"

She glanced up, surprised. "Hm?"

"Your accent."

"Oh, no. I actually grew up in Hong Kong. I attend Celadon University and wait trains when I can to help pay for rent and the like." She wiped down the outside of the bottle with a tower and handed it to him. "But very perceptive. I suppose I should work on my accent, though."

"It's no matter. I work with quite a few international businesses so I pick up on those sort of things rather quickly."

"Really? I'm studying finance and banking. How's the market look years down the road?"

Giovanni couldn't help but laugh a little. "My dear girl, you're the scholar. I am invested in nearly every brokerage in Japan…" Her brows shot up at his claim. "Now how do you think they're doing?" He winked at her. "Good luck with your studies. Oh, and… the number one rule of business? Don't be afraid to suck up to people when you need them. Just never forget you're better than them… They just have to _think_ the opposite is true."

He at last settled back and opened the water bottle. "I'll leave you to your duties. But thank you for the pleasant conversation."

She smiled awkwardly, her Mandarin accent cutting through a little more as she thanked him in return and rolled the cart further down the aisle. He saw her cast one last look in his direction before disappearing through the doors and into the next car.

Giovanni made a mental note. Finance and banking major from Hong Kong… Five or six years and maybe she'd be useful. After all, he could think of _many_ things she could be doing around midnight aside from attending trains; business-related or… not.

He smirked. Yes, he'd definitely be looking that one up in a few years.

About half an hour later, the train stopped in Cerulean. He glanced at his watch as the reverse polarity-powered vehicle slowed to a stop. Forty-five minutes until rendezvous. That was just enough time to grab a coffee beforehand.

Giovanni exited the car, briefcase firmly in hand, Persian at his heels. As soon as they were off, she whined loudly at him. He shushed the cat, tapping her snout.

"Sh, now. I can't exactly go walking around with a Rhydon, can I? We'll be fine." She hung her head as they walked to the escalators leading to the surface. He sighed. "Fine, I'll get you a Rattata tail somewhere along the way." Persian immediately perked up at the promise of a treat, now padding along at his side. Once they were on the escalator, she purred and rubbed her head affectionately against his leg. He smiled and scratched behind her ears.

If only his admins were so easily satisfied.

With ten minutes to 0100 hours, he simply sat in a late-night Starbucks, sipping a black coffee, a spare one in front of him. Underneath the table, Persian gnawed on a frozen Rattata tail – a rather large one. She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the treat, though. It had cost him less than the bitter coffee he sipped at, yet it was a fine gift to her.

He shook his head idly. Pokémon would never cease to amaze him. Half of them wanted nothing and the other half hated you just for looking at them.

The Rocket leader sighed. Speaking of…

"Persian, up." She craned her head back at her companion and mewled, the half-eaten tail still in her paws. "Come, now, we can't leave him waiting… You know how he is about punctuality."

Begrudgingly, the feline stood, treat in her mouth. Giovanni tossed the now-empty coffee cup in the trash bin, grabbed the spare, and after giving a wave to the cashier up front, headed out.

They entered the dark alley, only a few people passing on the main street. It was a relatively warm night, clear skies, especially considered they were far north. After all, Kanto took up a pretty good-sized chunk of Japan. It was normally busier downtown, but tonight that didn't seem to be the case.

All for the better, Giovanni mused. He leaned up against the wall of a brick building and set the briefcase down. Persian sat on her haunches and arched her neck to survey the skies. She dropped the thawing Rattata tail near her front paws.

Feeling slightly ridiculous, he raised his voice and called, "I'm here on _your_ terms. I brought you _coffee_, damnit! I don't even have my pistol on me!" He threw up the hand which wasn't holding the hot beverage. "I know you're up there, and you know I'm here, you paranoid basta-"

His voice suddenly caught off as the wind was knocked from his lungs. Some invisible force slammed him against the wall and forced his arms up. Giovanni coughed at the impact, but wasn't entirely unprepared for the odd greeting. He grinned through his pain as a rush of iridescent blue light filled the alley a moment later. It eventually dissipated, and in the low streetlights a figure stood, easily fifteen centimeters taller than he. It appeared vaguely feline, only bipedal and more humanoid than not. A powerful violet tail lashed as the Pokémon glared at him with eyes of the same hue.

The Genetic Pokémon approached silently and pulled aside one side of the suit jacket with a three-fingered paw. Telekinetically, he checked the pocket, then went to the other side. He took out the wallet and flipped through its contents before returning the leather object to its original spot.

The Rocket leader sighed as he felt an invisible push up the sleeves of his jacket. "Is this really necessary?"

_"Yes,"_ a deep voice curtly responded in his mind.

The induced paralysis was released in his hand as the Psychic took the coffee cup. He surveyed its contents, snorted, and set it on the ground. Persian, who'd been sitting attentively, mewled at the newcomer.

_"I realize it was meant for me. I do not care for addictive human beverages,"_ he responded, and with a thought lifted out the contents of her trainer's pockets. He separated the cell phone and at a psychic touch it lit up.

Giovanni cleared his throat. "There's a password on there. It's-"

_"I know what your password is,"_ he interrupted distractedly. After paging through messages, e-mails, and a few other logs, he returned the phone as well. The Psychic then unlocked the briefcase, quickly filed through its contents, and closed it.

The businessman scoffed. "Are you going to dissect my cat, as well?"

_"Don't tempt me."_

He waved a paw, and released Giovanni from the wall. The man rolled his shoulders and dusted off his suit. "You know, Mewtwo, you could have simply read my mind and seen I harbor no ill intentions."

_"You are such a rotten, corrupted individual you lie to _yourself_. I had to be certain."_

An awkward silence filled the air, punctuated only by Persian once more chewing her treat.

"How have you been?"

Mewtwo blinked at the question. _"…I am functioning at normal levels, mentally and physically. Why?"_

"For Arceus' sake, it's a question, not a test." He rubbed his temples. "And for the record, I did _used_ to be your trainer. Believe it or not you do cross my mind once in a while."

_"And you, mine, every day."_

He winced at the sharpness, which made his ears ring and stars dance in his vision. He tried not to glare at Mewtwo and said, "Why don't we skip the formalities."

The Psychic gave an affirmative grunt and telekinetically unlatched the briefcase. He gave a subtle "go on" gesture with a paw to the Rocket.

"All right, now you're just showing off."

_"Perhaps you simply require a better lock."_

Giovanni thumbed through the documents until he found the primary sources and the photograph his secretary had printed off. He handed over the stack, the photo on top.

He scrutinized the photograph, holding it up to the light. After a pause he said with finality, _"This photograph was obviously doctored."_

"…No, it's not."

_"There is no other explanation for the apparent scene taking place."_

"Mewtwo, there are six other pictures with that same view of Cyrus and the Lake Guardians, all from different cameras, in different cities, at different times, all within the past month, all previously seized by the Sinnoh government." He glared and advanced on the legendary, stepping less than a meter away. "Now tell me, why would the government hide evidence of a matter which never existed in the first place?"

Mewtwo shook his head. _"I do not believe you understand, Giovanni… I was part of the reason Cyrus disappeared at all. I helped _put him_ in the Distortion World with Giratina in the first place. He couldn't have escaped. If he has…"_

When he finally looked back up at the human, Giovanni saw something in his eyes he'd never seen. He hadn't seen it upon the copy's conception. He hadn't seen it in the gym, nor at Mount Quena, nor even when Deoxys nearly killed him in battle just a few years back. He hadn't thought the emotion even existed, not for his perfectly failed creation:

Fear.


	4. Of Legendary Proportions

Mewtwo seemed to catch himself and an instant later his face hardened to its usual stoniness. He shoved the photo back at Giovanni with a snort. _"Regardless, I have no business with Cyrus – not directly – and I certainly do not know what _your_ business with him would be."_ The Psychic started to turn away. _"This is not an issue of my concern."_

"I… It obviously _is!_" The Rocket gave a huff of disbelief. "You just told me you helped put away Cyrus the first time!"

_"Yes, nearly three years ago!"_

"You think that matters?" The Genetic Pokémon started to teleport away, but Giovanni placed a hand on his bony shoulder and forced him to turn about. Mewtwo almost retaliated, but something in his former trainer's eyes must have stopped him, because he actually took a step back. "Now, _damnit_, I came here against my better judgment because people – and not just _my_ people – are dying over in Sinnoh." He practically shook with frustration as he pointed at the copy. "I did what you asked. I stayed away. That mess with Deoxys… That was you; _you_got involved on your own terms. Now I am asking you, begging you, help me. Just this once. Please."

Mewtwo stared at him. _"You want us to work together."_

"Yes."

_"To bring down Cyrus."_

"That's the goal."

_"As partners."_

"Now you're getting it," he said with a relieved smile.

He scoffed. _"You made the same claim more than ten years ago before imprisoning me in armour and chains."_ Mewtwo started to turn; Giovanni once again reached to stop him. This time, he knocked the hand away with a snap of telekinesis. _"Do _not_ touch me if you value that hand!"_he snarled.

"Look at yourself; you're blinded by your own preconceptions and anger!"

_"I have no reason to trust you, nor have you given me one!"_

"And _I_ had no guarantee you would not kill me on sight, yet I came unarmed! I brought a useless _cat_as protection!"

Here, Persian finally looked up at them and hissed at his insult. But Giovanni wasn't finished.

He seethed, "Now, _look_, I am one of roughly seven people outside the Sinnoh government who knows what is going on. The Diet obviously has no idea how to deal with this kind of situation." He gave a very heavy, ragged sort of sigh and was suddenly showing all fifty-six of his years. "I told Councillor Tanaka I would speak to my 'source' – you – and try to convince you to help."

_"Then you admit defeat in this matter."_

"Cyrus has three legenda-!"

_"And you admit you need my assistance, beyond all of your riches and investments."_

"Yes, I-" He stopped and noticed a smirk playing across Mewtwo's face. "My Arceus, you're actually enjoying this!" Giovanni exclaimed incredulously.

_"There is a certain poetic justice to the situation."_

He bristled. "Yes. I need _you_."

Mewtwo moved his paw in a circular motion and eyed him expectantly.

"What?"

_"I do believe you can figure that out."_

"I…" Giovanni's jaw dropped as he realized what was going on. The _nerve!_"No, we are not doing this now. This is a strictly business meeting. We are meeting as potential business partners and nothing further."

_"Then you agree we are equals."_

"Yes. For the time being," he amended.

_"And if I refuse to assist you?"_

"I will leave with nothing further and let your self-righteous conscience take care of you."

The Pokémon's smirk twitched into a frown. _"You are a businessman to the bitter end, Giovanni…"_ He uncrossed his arms. _"Very well. But my cooperation is conditional."_

"To… what extent?" he asked with a slight grimace.

_"Condition number thirty-two: 'Do not pose more questions than necessary.'"_Mewtwo waved a paw –

- and in a flash of azure light, the three were standing atop a tall building. Giovanni stumbled, momentarily disoriented, and in that second felt he was going to disgorge his Starbucks latte over the side of the building. Persian seemed unaffected and padded over to her companion. She voiced a concerned, "Nya!" and nuzzled his hand.

"I'll be fine," he muttered, and turned to face Mewtwo a few paces away. "Prior warning would have been polite!"

_"Rule thirty-four: 'Do not questions my action nor judgment without due concern.'"_

"You have a list?"

_"I also have plentiful spare time."_

"…Just how many of these 'rules' are there?"

_"Two hundred twelve and counting."_

"You are truly one of the most outrageous individuals I have ever encountered."

A harsh sound, which he could only assume to be Mewtwo's version of a laugh, cut across his mind. _"You funded Doctor Fuji's genetic experiment. My demeanour is _your_ fault."_ The Psychic shook his head. _"Though I digress. Exactly what do you need to know?"_

"Everything."

_"You won't get that."_

"Fine. But I do need to know how you are involved with this matter. How did this start?"

_"With you – indirectly."_

"_Me?_What?"

Mewtwo glared at him askance, turned to the lit city. _"A woman by the name of Sird – one of yours, yes? – captured a Deoxys back near the Orange Islands a few years ago. I pursued her relentlessly before she eventually shook me off in Sinnoh. However, I soon learned that Sird was not exactly _your_ operative."_

"You can't be serious," Giovanni insisted, stepping up to the legend and crossing his arms over his jacketed chest. "Sird is among my most loyal admins."

_"Hm. Then why was she reporting directly to Cyrus? Apparently she is a very talented spy if even you did not suspect her…"_

He grated his teeth. "I'll deal with that later… go on."

_"It was at that point I learned of Cyrus' plans. I informed the Alpha, and Arceus, Giratina. It was decided that he should be locked away lest he wreak any more havoc on the world. I knew from my experiences with you that his intentions were anything but noble."_ He put up a paw to stop any oncoming protests from the Rocket. _"…And so, Cyrus was imprisoned in the Distortion World – an alternate dimension of sorts – with Giratina. As for Sird and the whole of Team Galactic… I assume they went back to their jobs."_

"As would I. Sird had continued updating me regularly on her operations in Sinnoh until about a month ago. Now I know why." Even in the dimness, his gaze darkened further yet. How could he have been so careless? Giovanni silently cursed himself and looked at the Psychic. He nodded for him to continue.

Mewtwo stared at him blankly. _"What?"_

"Well, how did he escape?"

_"I do not know. That is a relatively moot point, though, is it not?"_

"On the contrary. Obviously, and correct me if I'm wrong, which I doubt, but Cyrus could not have escaped on his own. He had to have someone of relative power to free him, yes?"

_"I suppose so."_

"Which means…" He prompted the Genetic Pokémon to finish. His scowl had turned to an almost hopeful smile.

_"…That whoever freed Cyrus is likely someone in a certain field – perhaps scientific or political - and someone close to Cyrus."_

"And we have a starting point." Giovanni chuckled, bemused at the absurdity of the situation. It was just going so _well!_Here they were, together again, working as a team, trainer and Pokém—

He stopped the train of thought before it went any further. Mewtwo must have sensed it because he shot the Viridian gym leader a harsh look.

"I apologize," he said carefully. "Old habits die hard, you know."

_"As do memories. This partnership will not work if you keep looking at me like one of your employees – or worse, one of your team. I am neither."_

"I understand. _Arceus_, you sound like a broken record!" Giovanni clasped his hands behind his back and stared out onto the city. Tightly, he replied, "And you must remember than I have been a gym leader for nearly thirty years, and leader of Rocket for just as long."

_"Then I suppose if you desire my assistance you will have to create a few _new_ habits."_

"I suppose so. How long will I need to hold on to these… habits?"

_"A week. A month. Three months. I don't know. However long it takes until we succeed or you give up."_

"And what makes you think I'll give up?"

_"History."_

"The future is not set in stone."

_"The past repeats itself."_

"Then according to history, you shouldn't be standing here lecturing me. You should be some doodle in a science fiction magazine." Giovanni gave a low chuckle and winked at him. "Now, we'll need to head back to Saffron."

"We?" Mewtwo's tone seemed downright dubious.

He blinked and cleared his throat. "Well, yes. Frankly, I'd prefer to conduct business in an office rather than an alley or a rooftop at one in the morning." He paused. "Unless, of course, you prefer this."

_"Will I have access to all computers?"_

"Every system."

_"I can assume there is no army awaiting my arrival back at your headquarters?"_

"I am the only person who knows you are involved. Well – excluding Persian."

The cat looked up from cleaning her paw. She gave an annoyed, "Mrow," and resumed her grooming. Mewtwo "hmph"ed, but nothing more.

Her trainer looked between the two. "What? What did she say?"

_"Rule twelve: 'Do not ask for a translation each and every time a Pokémon addresses me.'"_

"Fine. …Shall we…?"

_"Rule forty-seven: 'I am not your personal transporter.'"_

"You really are insufferable."

_"Oh?"_ The Psychic mimicked the general action of raising one's eyebrow, tail twitching behind him. _"And you are not?"_

"I'm not the one with a drawn-out 'rulebook' of conduct with unofficial co-workers."

Mewtwo narrowed his violet eyes. _"The last train before six leaves in fifteen minutes."_

"All right, damn you, I'm sorry!" He sighed in aggravation and waved Persian over.

_"I will see to it you have a copy of the conditions."_ He started forward. _"We will go to the back entrance."_

Giovanni started to back off but the Pokémon grabbed his upper arm in a vice grip.

_"This is your prior warning."_

Panic rose in him for a brief moment and he suddenly went numb. He only hoped Persian was still under his hand. "Now hold on a moment-"

- He was once more cut off as a wind swept the trio up in a rush of blue. He felt every cell, every _nerve_tear apart and it seemed it would never end and he couldn't scream, he couldn't and then –

- it did. His feet found solid ground. The leader was quite sure he would have collapsed if not for Mewtwo still clutching his arm.

_"Rule thirteen: 'Do not complain about the process nor aftereffects of teleportation, should I be generous enough to take you with me.'"_

He straightened and just looked at Mewtwo. "Do you get some kind of perverse pleasure out of this? Do you _enjoy_watching me suffer? Just a little?"

_"Believe me or don't, Giovanni, but I would never wish death upon you."_He strode towards the back door, tail waving lazily in the air, before stopping at the control to send a few last words his way:

_"I would rather see you rot in jail for the next one hundred years."_

And Giovanni knew this was going to feel like the longest, most difficult operation in his life.


End file.
